


Like An Arrow Through The Heart

by seamonster



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Mentions of Blood, Other, a gift, some good cliches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 13:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seamonster/pseuds/seamonster
Summary: Just a one-off.





	Like An Arrow Through The Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cancercrybaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cancercrybaby/gifts).



> This was a birthday gift.
> 
> I don't really specify reader gender in these I don't think.

Your entire life you’d been what you liked to refer to as Romantically Challenged. It was hard to describe to others. You’ve liked people before, you simply had no idea how to get from platonic point A to romantic point B; regardless of how many times you’ve tried to learn. At the end of the day, you’ve always just had to be fine by yourself. Never in your life had being romantically challenged almost gotten you fucking killed. 

The wound was fine, honestly. Hanzo had been quick about digging the bullet out and stabilizing you, thanks to the medi-kits Augustin put in your packs for this assignment. As long as you didn’t make it any worse, the medic would be able to fix you up easy peasy when you got back to base.

Whenever that was going to be.

Right now you were a shivering burrito, wrapped in the only two, thin blankets the bunker had. The shaking caused the hot throb in your chest to ache constantly, but you had no control over stopping. You couldn’t even sit up. Hanzo had been trying to get the heat on, but he wasn’t exactly good with old technology and ended up conceding with a huff of frustration. Rejoining you at the cot and unzipping his coat.

"We have seven hours until extraction." He sounded so weary, draping his coat over you to add a bit more warmth. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been shot." Your teeth chattered as you said it, voice weak. Talking too much made the pain flare up even more.

He felt you for a fever, fingers cold against the flushed skin of your face. Woozy from blood loss, you weren't shy about leaning into the touch.

"...I'm concerned you may be getting an infection," he murmured, and there was real worry in his tone. In his eyes. You probably should have been more worried, too, but that sounded like painful effort. You were under enough painful effort. But everything about what was happening bordered on either unbelievable or your deepest, quietest dream come true. It's just a shame you were too out of it to truly notice how the man was fluttering over you, making sure you were as comfortable as you could be.

As far as the resurgent Overwatch was concerned, the two of you stuck out like a pair of sore thumbs. Neither of you really having a sense of "justice" at your cores. More like fair play. It helped make you a good team. Sneaky, ruthless, and efficient. Yet, for as much as you worked together, you'd never say the two of you had really become friends. Not your fault, Hanzo was a very reserved man. He kept himself to himself and only opened up to his brother. Many tried to strike up conversations with him only to receive mostly silence in return. Yourself included. McCree was, debatably, the most successful. You’re not sure they actually talked, though; it was more like mutual brooding.

You were also pretty sure Hanzo didn't care for your sense of humor and that was, frankly speaking, your best trait. So if he didn’t like that, there wasn’t much for you to fall back on. Which sucked, because you liked  _ most _ things about him. From his silky-looking hair right down to that sneering half-smile that made you feel like goop on a normal day; and then all the way to his cutting wit, yet quiet disposition.

So having him taking care of you so carefully was like an impossible heaven. The only thing that'd make it better would be if you didn't have a gunshot hole through your chest that had miraculously managed to miss your heart  _ and _ lungs.

You realized after a minute that he was saying your name, and you finally answered with a faint hum.

Hanzo cursed.

"You are still too cold.”

You could only respond with another hum. The shot may have missed your lungs, but breathing still burned. Hanzo cursed again, moving around you. The world was starting to lose focus, your head swimming in and out of pleasant thoughts, until you felt the cot move. You let out a hiss of pain, being jostled somewhat, and Hanzo froze immediately. Much more carefully, he slid onto the cot behind you.

“You need to stay awake.”

Oof, but he was so  _ warm _ against your back, a hand coming to rest very gently on your arm, over the blankets. He said your name again.

“Mmn?”

“Stay awake.”

“M’awake.”

“You are falling unconscious.” 

“I’m awake. Jus’… dizzy.” Dizzy and cold, but Hanzo’s warmth was starting to really seep in through your clothes. Was he really in the bed with you? How did you get here?

...Oh right. You’d gotten distracted. You did the number one thing no agent should ever make the mistake of doing on an assignment, regardless of the threat level.

You hesitated. 

During a lull in the fight, you saw a moment. An extremely brief opportunity to maybe convey to Hanzo, in some sort of way, that you liked him. Something witty and flirtatious maybe. A smooth hint, like McCree could drop on the fly. And then your romantically challenged brain short-circuited just long enough to miss the shooter raising her gun.

“Stay awake.”

You almost huffed, but the pain warned you against it. Instead, you barely tilted your head in his direction.

“M’awake, dammit.” Your exhausted tone killed the effect. 

“You keep spacing out. Even during fights.”

Oh fuck, he’d absolutely noticed. Of course he did, this was Hanzo Shimada.

“You know,” he started, hesitation clear in his tone. You could feel Hanzo’s breath in your hair, desperately wishing you could feel something other than burning pain and nausea. “If there is something on your mind... I’d prefer to discuss it and clear the air before an assignment. So we may both focus without fear of compromise. You don’t have to discuss your personal worries with me if you don’t want to, of course. I know you are closer with the others, I simply mean…” He huffed lightly, cutting off his ramble to mutter something in Japanese.

Fucking hell.

“What I mean to say is, I’m… here. If you ever need to talk.”

Why was the universe so cruel? You’d give anything to see Hanzo’s face in this moment. His voice was so soft, almost uncertain.

"...Hanzo?" You managed to croak out his name.

"Yes?"

"Can we talk about it later maybe?" When you weren’t bleeding with black spots starting to dance around the edges of your vision?

You felt him gently touch his forehead to your hair.

"Of course."

**Author's Note:**

> if you like the sort of thing I do, you can find me on twitter @seamobeemo


End file.
